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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25419994">Sweater Paws</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldTrident/pseuds/EmeraldTrident'>EmeraldTrident</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Android/human sex, Hank loves Connor so much, Kissing, M/M, Soft Hank, cock riding, whiny Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:01:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,380</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25419994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldTrident/pseuds/EmeraldTrident</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor likes wearing Hank’s oversized hoodie while he rides him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson &amp; Connor, Hank Anderson/Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>303</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sweater Paws</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Connor’s pale thighs trembled on either side of Hank’s body as he rode him. The skin of his legs blushed sky blue while Hank pet them in a gentle soothing motion, pulsing his large veiny hands every few strokes into Connor’s plump flesh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it, pumpkin,” Hank sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor smiled meekly, his expression hidden behind his hands both held near his mouth, covered up by the sleeves of the oversized hoodie he wore. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Detroit Police Academy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it read. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank’s sweatshirt was four sizes too big for Connor’s thin boyish frame, and yet it was Connor’s very favorite thing to wear. The faded gunmetal-grey hoodie was very soft, from its hundred plus washes, and it smelled like Hank. Like years and years of the same cologne, years of being against Hank’s skin. Sometimes Connor would bring his sleeves to his face just to nuzzle into them and inhale. Connor loved the fabric so very much. Wearing it not only made him feel demure and delicate but close to his love, always, just like he was in a perpetual hug from Hank. It was his safety blanket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you feel me stretching you open?” Hank cooed, his hands moving up under the hoodie to caress his nails against the velvety skin of Connor’s groin and sides. Connor twitched in his hold. His sweater-paws still in front of his mouth he nodded, a tiny whine coming out from between his lips as Hank thrust his hips up again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank pressed the flat of his large palm against Connor’s lower stomach, right where the small sprinkle of public hair was. He continued with his nails, tickling the skin there, cupping the globe of Connor’s right asscheek in his other hand. “You like it, baby? Hmm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor nodded again, the cheeks on his face blushed a subtle shade of indigo. He loved almost nothing more than when Hank talked softly to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank wasn’t a patient man, wasn’t a particularly calm and quiet man either, until he met Connor. Even the earlier days of their friendship, Hank was prone to shouting, to picking arguments, to avoiding anything that took too much time, taking shortcuts and cutting corners. He hadn’t always been that way, but the stresses of his life the years immediately before Connor showed up weren’t kind to him. He was on the verge of a breaking point. Connor had showed up just in time to save him from himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Connor, after Hank had fallen, he was gentle, soft spoken, and he took all the time in the world needed to tease and toy with him. Making pleasure curl in Connor’s belly was Hank’s purpose now, his favorite pastime. Such a beautiful little creature. Hank treated Connor like a fine piece of China, though realistically his model could withstand a literal nuclear blast and be just fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor began bouncing softly again, in tiny little movements. He opened his eyes to peep over his sweater-paws at the man laying underneath him, his focus on watching Connor’s body undulate on top of him. Hank looked up and their eyes met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank remembered the days, the years, when he was under the assumption that androids couldn’t feel. Not physically, not emotionally. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s all simulated bullshit, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hank always found himself thinking. That was before Hank fell in love with one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor may be made of different stuff, his blood may be a different color than his own, but he had a soul. Some way. Somehow. The geniuses at Cyberlife were able to manufacture a human soul. Free will. The ability to display and evoke deep emotions, to create and enjoy art, to whimper with genuine pleasure when they were touched sexually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank hated thinking about it too much, terrified of overthinking himself into a hole and convincing himself it was all a well-fabricated lie. That Connor was a farce, that all androids were were just very good at copying human emotions. Sometimes, when things were bad, Hank found his thoughts going there. But he was immediately reeled back to the surface again after one look into Connor’s eyes. The sparkling of love there, there was no way it wasn’t real. Not the way Connor craved him, the way he always wanted him near. Connor’s feelings were just as intense as Hank’s for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank’s cock was thick, stretching Connor’s self-lubricating hole open, and with each roll of Connor’s hips his sounds got louder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it,” Hank sighed, his pelvis twitching from the warmth enveloping not only his cock but his body, his senses. Looking into Connor’s eyes always filled Hank with a sense of accomplishment, of duty. Connor didn’t need Hank to protect him, in fact it may even be the other way around. But Hank felt obligated to care for the boy, to let him know, whether through word or touch, how loved he was. “You gonna come for me, pumpkin?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor nodded, his breath hitching and a moan falling from his lips from a particularly hard thrust of Hank’s cock deeper into his body. He nearly fell forward from the force of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here, baby,” Hank cooed, opening his arms, beckoning Connor closer to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor moved up, Hank’s cock slipping from his hole from the maneuver. Connor laid against Hank’s body, nestling against him, their chests touching before they began to kiss, hot open mouths moving together. Hank’s large palm directed Connor’s head where he wanted him, to deepen their embrace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank lifted Connor’s bent leg further up his body to stretch him open again while their tongues and lips played together, giving him an angle to slip into his boy again. Connor whined into Hank’s mouth. Hank shushed him softly as he lowered Connor again until he was flush to his body again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank was a large man, and his cock wasn’t any different. Before Connor, he had never been with anyone who was able to take all of him to the hilt. Connor took it with ease. If Hank wasn’t already in love, that aspect surely would have done it for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hank,” Connor whined against his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep saying my name, pretty,” Hank kissed Connor’s face, nuzzling against him as he began fucking up into Connor’s body again. Their arms entwined, holding each other in a deep warmth embrace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank’s sweatshirt fell six inches below Connor’s ass when he was standing but had been hiked up from their activity. The sweatshirt, soft and warm, their combined body heat pressed against Connor’s cock in the front. From Hank’s hold and movement, pressing him against his body, Connor’s cock was trapped between them, throbbing and leaking against the fabric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank pet Connor’s face, could feel himself getting close. Pre-come and lube leaked from Connor’s hole around Hank’s cock, slightly wetting the area between their bodies even more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The material of the sweatshirt against Connor’s most sensitive area, mixed with the pressure and friction of their bodies, unexpectedly sent him over the edge. He clutched Hank’s arm as he rocked forward, spilling into the sweatshirt, pretty breathy whines and whimpers spilled from his lips. Hank pet him through it, his heart pounding in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it.” He repeated, cooing and coaxing his love through his orgasm.  “Relax, honey.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor slowly floated down, his head resting in the corner of Hank’s neck. He tilted his chin, his lips ghosting Hank’s, his tongue darting out gently, a soft movement across Hank’s lower lip at the same time as a thrust up sent him over the edge. He groaned, holding Connor against him as he bucked up, coming inside him. Rutting up into the boy, sighing and trying to catch his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby,” Hank sighed, his hand in Connor’s hair, lackadaisically kissing the boy’s face, his eyes still closed and drawn in pleasure. “Made for me, baby. You were made for me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor nodded in agreement, his face pressed fully into Hank’s neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t deny it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor wasn’t exempt from the occasional existential crises. He frequently found himself searching for his purpose, why he was created, what use was he to the world? Until he met Hank, those thoughts bombarded his mind at a rapid fire pace. They had slowed down, of late. He knew Hank was right. </span>
</p><p>He was made for him. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! 💐💙</p></blockquote></div></div>
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